The air filled with the sound of weapons firing, lasers slicing through the gloom and cutting the approaching group in half before we had to fight hand-to-hand. I thrust my sword out, slicing a shoulder. The creature screamed and attacked again. Fawke spun, his sword taking off the Malignant’s head.
I dropped to one knee and jabbed upward, cutting through the stomach of another. After shooting half of them, taking out the rest was easy, but we weren’t safe yet. From down the tunnel came the sounds of many more. “Let’s go. Dante, help Ezra.”
They each grabbed one of the handles on the crate, and we raced toward our hideout. I gripped the rungs of the ladder that would take me up and out of the tunnel and glanced back. Yellow eyes grew larger as the creatures came closer. I scrambled up the ladder and took a protective stance until the others were safely beside me.
Once they were all up the ladder, we thundered through the building and outside. Keeping to the growing afternoon shadows, we made it to our safe place and dropped in exhausted heaps.
“That was too close,” Kira said. “We need a new plan.”
“The old one always worked. In and out quietly with each taking turns retrieving the crate.” Ezra pried open the lid and frowned. “No more chocolate.”
“We need a way to keep our supplies safe in case Ezra is right about other survivors.” I propped up on one elbow, too tired to worry about washing off the stench of blood yet. “A hiding place not easily found if someone stumbles across this place.”
“We could dig a pit,” Moses suggested. “Cover it with something no one would think to move. Something that looks permanent.”
I glanced around the room for something to fit his idea. A pit could be easily dug, but finding something to disguise the trap door would be harder.
Concrete blocks, rocks, rusty furniture for decades past. “Dig the pit at the entrance where we keep dead Malignants. No one would dream of moving a decaying corpse to look for supplies.”
Fawke grinned. “Great idea, boss. We start digging in the morning.”
6
I woke the next morning to rain, something I saw so rarely I couldn’t contain my excitement. I rushed to the door and reached out my hand.
“No.” Fawke slapped my hand down. “The rain is poison. If it gets on your skin, you grow sick and die.”
“Is that how the disease spreads?” The one that had killed most of the world’s population and caused some trigger-happy man-in-charge to press the buttons that sent off dozens of nuclear warheads. At least that’s what we’d learned in school. Strange how they’d left out the theory of rain spreading the disease.
No one ventured outside in the rain in Soriah either. Not without protective clothing. Work, school, had always been canceled. Going outside was forbidden, but as a child, I hadn’t known why.
“We don’t think so. Although, not even the Malignants will be out today. We can’t turn into one of them. The plague from long ago made them what they are.”
I stepped under the building’s metal awning and stared across the courtyard. “Do we have gear that’s rainproof?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Today is a perfect day to scout. Maybe find the Malignants’ lair or a clue to these phantom other survivors.”
“No one has ever taken the chance,” Kira said, joining us. “A mistake would be fatal.”
“I’ll take the chance. Do we have the gear or not?”
She nodded. “We received coveralls months ago, masks, gloves, all of it.”
I frowned. “None of you thought to test it?” I cut a glance at Fawke.
He shrugged. “I wanted to, but the others said they’d shoot me before letting me back in. Fear is a great deterrent. No one wants to die before returning to Soriah and a life of luxury.”
“How often does it rain?”
“Once a month, maybe twice, and it takes days for everything to dry up.”
By now, the others had joined us, intrigued, but worried about the track of our conversation. “I’ll go,” I said. “This could be the perfect time. Soriah wouldn’t have sent the equipment if they didn’t think it beneficial to us. We’re too valuable for them to kill off. I don’t think they have the resources to send things that might or might not work.”
“We’ll all go.” Ezra opened a trunk near where he slept.
“No. I’ll take Fawke since he knows the area. The rest of you work on the hiding place for our supplies.” I waited to see whether Fawke would balk at coming with me.
Instead, a slow grin spread across his face. “Looks like I got the easy job suckers.” He snatched a bag from Ezra’s hand.
“Those of you digging will need to wear the gear, too,” I said. “Just in case. Don’t take any chances of splashes hitting your skin or soaking your clothes. Every one of us is needed to fight.” I left my furry robe behind, stripped down to my underclothes, and then pulled the thick rubber suit over my clothing and head. A clear mask with holes to breathe through, then tight-fitting rubber gloves completed my outfit. I was covered in rubber from head to toe, same as the others.
Thankfully, the tight-fitting gloves still allowed me to get a good grip on my sword. The Malignants might not go out into the rain, but I planned on us going into buildings in search of where they laid up. We might have to fight our way out.
“I still haven’t decided if you’re brave or the most insane person I’ve ever met.” Fawke slung his weapon over his shoulder.
“A little of both.” Brave? Not even a little bit. I didn’t see the point of living in fear, though. I was here for ten years or until I died. Some days, it was a toss up of which I’d prefer.
Gage handed Fawke a bag to hook to his belt. “Food and water. See you before dark.” Her eyes searched his. I might be young, but I knew yearning when I saw it.
I sighed and turned away. It wouldn’t do to fall for anyone under the circumstances we lived in. Still, my heart dropped a little at the fact Fawke might like someone more than he cared for me.
Taking a deep breath that sounded harsh behind my mask, I stepped into the rain. I waited to see its effect on my suit. The drops rolled like water off a tin roof.
Fawke took the lead across the courtyard. Since that’s where we usually spotted the creatures skulking, it seemed a logical choice to me. My feet squelched through the weeds and grass, occasionally sinking into a hole in the concrete. I prayed to the Supreme Being I hadn’t made a fatal mistake. The group could survive without me, but they’d die without Fawke’s knowledge and experience.
If I’d thought buildings dark before, they were virtually black inside due to the thick curtain of rain. Fawke pointed to a button between my eyes, then pushed his. A flashlight beam shined from his forehead.
I smiled, thinking it merely a piece that helped hold the suit together, and pressed mine. Now that we could see, Fawke continued forward, pulling his sword.
We saw no sign of Malignants on the first floor of the building and climbed iron stairs in a narrow stairwell to the next floor. The door hung on rusty hinges. A cursory glance showed a large, mostly empty room with overturned cabinets, shattered windows, and charred walls. The third floor looked the same. Nothing here.
Down the stairs and to the next building. Even with the mask the foul air almost choked me. The Malignants had been there, recently.
Fawke motioned me forward, heading in the direction the odor came from. We stepped into a room full of mounds of dried grass in the shapes of large bird nests. While it was obvious the creatures slept here, none were in sight. Keeping against the wall, we continued through the building.
I strained my ears for the slightest sound. It wouldn’t come from us unless we brushed up against or rattled something. The rubber soles of our suits made very little noise. The gray of the material blended us into the walls. Someone on the hill had thought through the purpose of the suits. My guess was a former Stalker. For our good or our demise wa
s left to be determined. I had the sinking feeling we were considered very expendable despite my words to the contrary.
Fawke halted us at the rattle of a stone to our right. He motioned his fingers for me to follow him in that direction.
A Malignant squatted in the middle of a room, his nostrils twitching. It never turned its head in our direction.
I smiled. It could see the light, but it couldn’t smell us through the rubber. They might have brains, but were too stupid to think this new strange creature in front of them a danger.
I kicked a piece of rubble, sending it crashing into a wall. The creature turned its head in that direction and screamed. I raised my sword and removed its head. I started to ask why we didn’t wear the suits every day in our quest to rid the world of the vermin, but the sweat pouring down my back answered me. I removed my mask and lifted my face to a cool, but rancid breeze wafting down a hallway.
Fawke allowed a few seconds before motioning that I put the mask back on. I understood my scent was traceable without every inch of me covered, but I wasn’t used to the same discipline and hardships he was.
By mid-day, we’d gone through four of the buildings across the street and only seen the one creature I’d killed. Fawke led me to the top of a building where he bolted a steel door, preventing anything from joining us. A metal awning over a steel box provided us a safe place to sit from the rain.
I removed my mask and pulled the suit from my head. I hadn’t felt anything so good in a very long time.
Fawke handed me a canteen. After I drank and handed it back, he handed over a firmly packed protein bar. I grimaced, knowing it would fill my belly and provide necessary nutrients but would taste like dirty cardboard.
I perched on the steel box and took a bite. “Have you had contact with your mother since The Wheel?”
“No. I miss her every day, but it doesn’t do me any good to dwell on that fact. I’ll see her in two years, if she’s still alive. Thank you for letting me know she misses me and is well.”
I almost hoped another Stalker would arrive, someone to tell me Mam was well. Homesickness sat heavy in my chest every second since I’d arrived there. Fawke was the closest I could call to a friend in the city, and even that was questionable considering the way Gage had gazed at him. Loneliness was a constant companion. I wasn’t sure I could endure ten years of it.
“What happened to your father?”
“He died in the mine. Yours?”
“Same.” Most of the men died that way. Mine had fathered me and soon after left my mother a widow with an infant to raise. “Mam is a seamstress working on clothes for the rich, people she never sees. I’ve seen her run her hands over the silks and satins with a faraway look in her eyes. Sometimes, I dreamed she was one of them who’d been cast out because she’d fallen in love with a poor boy.” I laughed without humor. “Childhood fantasies.”
“You still dream, Crynn. I hear you sobbing in your sleep.” Worry shadowed his features. “Some can’t handle the life we live. They snap.”
“And die. That won’t happen to me.”
“I hope not. You’ve been a smart leader so far. The black tracks on your face are fading.”
I touched my cheek. “Will I be punished for not replacing them?”
“I’ve not read a rule that says you have to replace them if they fade, only that you cannot remove them. I think it’s a test of some sort.” He smiled. “The sweat is helping them to disappear.”
I’d be painting them back on as soon as we returned. I wasn’t taking any chances of spending the rest of my life here for such a small infraction.
I stood. The rain had stopped. Still, I pulled my hood back up and replaced my mask before stepping to the edge of the roof. Below I could see Dante, Moses, and Ezra digging while the two women worked at putting our supplies into bags and other containers.
Occasionally, a Malignant would skirt along one of the buildings and the group would pause in their work, only to resume when the creature moved on, careful not to touch anything wet. I raised my gaze and froze.
“Fawke, look.” I pointed to where a plume of smoke drifted above the faraway mountain. Malignants didn’t build fires. The question of more survivors had been answered.
7
“That would take weeks to get to. Most likely months. Hordes of Malignants and who knows what else to get through.” Ezra shook his head. “But orders are orders, and we can’t deny the fact we aren’t alone anymore.
“You’re the only one who knows about such orders,” Dante said. “How do the rest of us know you aren’t leading us from safety into danger for a purpose of your own?”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “For what reason? I’m a lifer here. What do I care where we go or stay?”
“Finding survivors gives you a chance of escaping this place, doesn’t it?” Now that no rain remained on my leather suit, I peeled it off. “These survivors could be rebels against Soriah, am I right?”
“Maybe. My orders weren’t very clear.” He grabbed a protein bar from a box. “We couldn’t leave anytime soon, anyway. It would be stupid to leave all of our supplies behind which means we need a way of transporting them.”
“A wagon.” Fawke folded his rubber suit. “We could have one built by the time the rain dries.”
“Which means we dug a pit for nothing.” Dante put an arm over his eyes and fell dramatically back onto his bedding.
“It gave you something to do.” I laughed and dressed in my usual clothing of mis-matched pieces scavenged from the room in Soriah. Then, sobering, I asked, “Is there a way to communicate with the leaders of Soriah?”
“I have a radio, but we have a limited amount of calls.” Ezra pulled a rectangle box from his pack.
“I think this warrants a call. We need to know what they want us to do. Messing up out here has consequences I don’t like.” I took the box and set it on a cabinet. “How does it work?”
Ezra fiddled with a knob on the side of the box. A stern-faced woman in black appeared after a few minutes of nothing but a white wall. “Hello, Ezra. It’s been a very long time.”
I stepped in front of the screen. “I’m Crynn Dayholt, leader of the Stalkers. We’ve found a plume of smoke rising above a mountain in the distance and want to know our next step.”
The woman looked taken aback at my appearance, then gave a cold smile. “Finally, a leader with a backbone. Young, too, I see. I will relay this information to President Cane and get back to you tomorrow.” The screen went black.
“President Cane?”
Fawke shrugged. “I’ve only heard the name a couple of times. He or she is the phantom leader of Soriah. From what I know, the president never leaves the hill and only a select few have ever seen the president’s face.”
“Who was the woman we spoke to?” I turned to Ezra.
“Sharon. She’s the president’s voice. Her words, not mine.” He plopped into a cross-legged sitting position. “I haven’t spoken to her since the day before I got here, and she gave me that box. She’s as old and sour-faced as she was then. Said not to call unless we found other survivors. I really didn’t think we would find anyone.”
“How many calls do we have?”
“I don’t know. She only said a finite number.”
It could be that she didn’t want Stalkers bothering her. I stepped to the doorway and stared out at an afternoon barely brighter than it had been during the rain. I had no idea how to build a wagon or even how to get out of the city. Other than making decisions I wasn’t sure were the right ones to be making, I felt useless.
I turned back to the others. “Can we get what we need to build a wagon without venturing outside?”
“The tunnels and buildings should have what we need.” Fawke grabbed a charred piece of wood from the firepit and wrote on the side of a wall. “Six to eight tires, a metal bottom, sides, rope or straps to pull it with…Yeah, we can get this. Do you want to do that today or wait until after we hear from the presi
dent?”
“We’ll need a way to build a quick shelter,” Kira pointed out. “Once we leave the city, we won’t have a roof to get under when it rains.”
Fawke added shelter to the list. “Some kind of quickly erected tent or we sleep in the wagon. Maybe Soriah will send us one.”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask when Sharon calls back tomorrow,” Ezra said. “They’ve supplied other things that meant life or death to us. Like the rubber suits.”
“Which means our real purpose here isn’t to kill Malignants, but to find survivors.” I sat on my blankets. “Why? Are these people rebels or were they kicked out of Soriah and left to fend for themselves?”
“If kicked out, then why would Soriah care anymore about them?” Kira opened a can of unidentifiable meat and dumped it into a pot over the fire. “They’re way up in the mountains so they can’t be of much harm to anyone.”
“What if Soriah wants to move back to the city? There are a lot more places for people to reside here once the place is cleaned up.” Moses glanced from one face to the other. “There aren’t enough eighteen-year-olds landing on black when they spend the wheel. Crynn is the first in years. What if we’re to convince the others to help us clear out this place?”
“That would mean they aren’t hostile,” Gage added.
“None of which we will know until talking to Sharon tomorrow and then finding the other humans.” Ezra stretched out. “Wake me when it’s time to eat.”
I glanced around the large room we called home. Exposed steel beams showed through holes in the walls. A legless table sat propped against a far wall. That would be perfect for a bottom to our wagon.
With our trackers, Soriah would always know where to send the helicopters to drop our supplies. “Wait a minute.” I frowned. “Why haven’t they sent one of the helicopters to find these people?”
The others stared at me as if I’d spoken a different language. Ezra opened one eye. “Good question.”
What if we were called to dispose of the others? I didn’t think I could kill a human. Life was sacred, and the world’s population was struggling to increase. Soriah was bursting at the seams, at least in the poor district where I’d grown up. If wanting more bodies to clear out the city was the intentions of the president, then why not change The Wheel by adding more black squares?
The Wheel: A Young Adult Dystopian Novel (Nightfall Book 1) Page 4
